


Feeling Real

by innerslytherin, severity_softly



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Painful Sex, Rimming, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerslytherin/pseuds/innerslytherin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/severity_softly/pseuds/severity_softly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy needed to fix something. Jackson needed his humanity back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling Real

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the S3 finale (so SPOILERS). We tried to write something short, and still broke 10k. ;)

Bellamy needed to fix something.

Deep in the back of his mind, he knew that something was himself, but since he had no idea how to do that, how to supplement the course corrections he'd already made, he focused on external problems.

He started with simple things.

Getting down from the tower without losing anyone to the drop.

Burning Charles Pike's body.

Coordinating Skaikru's temporary settlement in Polis after Clarke and Kane's negotiations went through.

Those were things he could do, things that kept his hands busy and his mind occupied enough that he didn't have to look inward. But by the end of the second day since ALIE's defeat, Abby Griffin had ordered Bellamy to stand down--Abby, because Kane still wasn't meeting Bellamy's gaze.

"You're exhausted and still recovering, and we have breathing room," she said. "With Roan's protection, we're secure for now. Go find a place to rest."

Bellamy stared at her blankly for a few heartbeats, until she made an exasperated noise. "Go to the mess hall. There's a list of buildings that have been opened up for our use. They'll find you a room."

Bellamy knew all that. He just hadn't thought to request quarters for himself. He nodded faintly and headed for the mess hall.

It wasn't anything like a mess hall, really. There were tables scattered around in a large courtyard, and food vendors were selling meat he couldn't identify, vegetables, and-- _thank God_ \--alcohol.

He bought a plate of roasted vegetables and a tumbler of something the woman called gin, and looked around for a place to sit.

Murphy and his Grounder girl--Emori, he thought her name was--were sitting close together at a table with Miller and Bryan. Clarke was still closeted with Kane and the Grounder council. A message had been sent to Arkadia, but Raven and the others hadn't returned yet.

Bellamy could see a few delinquents huddled around two tables pushed together, but he didn't know any of them well, and too many of them looked to him as some kind of leader, which just made his stomach churn.

There. Doctor Jackson was sitting by himself. He had a tumbler in front of him but no plate, and he was hunched over, staring blankly at the tumbler.

Bellamy didn't know Jackson well, though the man had stitched more than a few injuries for him in the past few months. The impression he had was of a kind, compassionate man--a genuinely _good_ man, of the sort Arkadia had too few of to begin with.

But something had made Jackson take the chip. And judging from Jackson's posture, he was a man trying to live with whatever he'd done while chipped.

Bellamy knew a little something about living with what you'd done.

He approached slowly and hesitated behind the chair across from Jackson's. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"Mind if I sit?"

Jackson sucked in a sharp breath, almost flinching when Bellamy spoke, then looked up at Bellamy as if he'd been roused from a bad dream. "Hmph, B-- It's Blake, right? Yeah, sit."

"Bellamy's fine," Bellamy said, taking a seat. Then he remembered, with a pang, that he was the only Blake around now. Wherever Octavia had gone, she hadn't wanted him following. "You've seen me half naked enough in medical that I'm comfortable with a first-name basis," he added, striving for a light tone.

"Mm," Jackson hummed, the sound low, and nodded. Bellamy's tone didn't seem to have made any difference in the doctor's mood. "Okay. Bellamy. Um… what can I help you with?"

Bellamy blinked, then shook his head. "You just looked like you could use some company," he said. Not like he _wanted_ company, but like he _needed_ it, to get him out of his own head a little.

"Oh," Jackson said, staring at Bellamy. "Look, I'm fine if you have friends you'd rather sit with." He took a large gulp of whatever he was drinking.

Bellamy shrugged. "Not really. My friends either aren't back from Arkadia yet or they're doing just fine on their own. And...my sister's washed her hands of me, so." He gave Jackson an unhappy smile. "Whatever you did in the City of Light, you didn't help massacre three hundred of our allies."

Jackson stared at Bellamy for a moment, almost like he didn't believe Bellamy just said that. After a moment, his lips twisted. He shook his head and looked away. "I _am_ responsible for Arkadia falling. I handed Raven Reyes the scalpel she used to sli--" he choked on the words, his eyes watering, and took another drink.

Bellamy frowned. Raven hadn't mentioned Jackson's involvement when she'd given her brief account of events. He knew Raven had sliced her wrists to force Abby to take the chip. But as much as Bellamy hated to think it, Abby _could_ have still refused. Clarke had refused, when she was faced with ALIE killing her mother.

"That wasn't you," he said after a moment. "Once you took the chip, you weren't responsible for what ALIE did with your body." He poked at one of the vegetables on his plate, then took a sip of his drink and coughed. "When I helped destroy Trikru's army, I _did_ know what I was doing. I _could_ have stopped. You didn't have that luxury."

Jackson snorted. "ALIE required free will. She didn't _force_ me to do anything." He drained what was left of his cup and tried to stand, but then swayed and sat back down. "Fuck," he said, folding his arms on the table and dropping his head into them. "Two days ago I couldn't have told you the last time I drank."

"Forgive me if I define free will a little differently than ALIE did," Bellamy said. "She blocked pain and sorrow. You can't make a free, informed decision if you're unable to comprehend the consequences."

He sighed. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to argue, except Jackson had always seemed different from the rest of them. Better. And Bellamy had seen people come out from the City of Light--he'd seen Raven's remorse for her hateful speeches at the trading post. "The fact that you did things while chipped that you would _never_ do as yourself proves you weren't in control."

"I was in control," Jackson insisted. He lifted his head. "I just… my priorities were altered. It was so… it was so _nice_ ," he said, smiling sadly and looking into his empty glass.

Bellamy took a long sip of his drink. "I can believe that." He studied Jackson's face, wishing he knew the other man better. Jackson's eyebrows pinched together, but was it just guilt, or was it despair? "But I still don't know if it was really _you_ ," he argued. "Abby hanged herself to try to get the passphrase from Clarke, and we both know the last thing Abby would do is hurt her daughter."

Then again, the last thing Bellamy had wanted to do was hurt Octavia, and it had been his actions that led to Lincoln's death. He forced himself to eat some vegetables instead of drinking any more just yet.

"Abby told me to stay out of medical for a few days," Jackson said. "I'm not convinced she was telling the truth when she said she thought I needed time. She can barely look at me."

"Abby's still dealing with her own guilt," Bellamy said. He had a sudden, fierce wish that he'd been Jackson's friend before this. He probably didn't have any right to try to reach out to him. But no one else seemed to need Bellamy. And Bellamy needed to be needed. "You...I really didn't see. You were in the throne room, weren't you?"

Jackson nodded, almost absently, his eyes going glassy. "I almost got to Clarke. I was just a couple feet from her, and Abby had her gun aimed at my head. If Clarke had taken another _second_ to pull the kill switch, I'd be dead." He drew a shaky breath. "I kind of wish she would have."

After a moment's shock, Bellamy reached out and rested a hand briefly on Jackson's arm. "Then we'd be down to just one doctor for all of us," he said quietly, and pulled away. "I won't pretend it's easy to learn to live with what you've done. But...I've got some practice at it. It does get...less heavy after a while."

God. It was so easy to make a speech that would get people fired up to fight. It was a lot harder finding the words to make someone feel better.

Jackson was staring at the spot on his arm Bellamy had touched. "Maybe," he said. "I'm not much use as a doctor right now," he added, lifting his empty cup. "If we ever had a moment of peace, we could train more doctors, but that may never happen."

"You will be again," Bellamy said. "You're a good doctor, Jackson. I may not know you well, but I know that much. And if I've learned anything over the past several months, it's that we all need each other if we're going to survive. We need you." He leaned his arms on the table, trying to get Jackson to meet his gaze. "And it's okay if you need people, too."

Jackson looked Bellamy in the eyes, his expression blank even though Bellamy could still see pain in his eyes. "Why are you here? Why are you sitting here trying to pep talk me, touching me?" He didn't seem upset, just genuinely confused.

Bellamy felt his lips curve unhappily. "For one thing, it's easier than dealing with my own shit," he admitted. "But for another...Maybe we were never friends, but I like you. And... nobody else seems to need me." He reached out again and rested his hand on Jackson's arm, and this time he left it there. "So I thought maybe you could use company. Get you out of your own head for a while."

"I'm not sure that's possible," Jackson said. He lifted his free hand, and it sort of hovered over Bellamy's hand. "I'm so used to touch. It comes with my job." He paused for a moment, then added, "I don't think I've touched another person in weeks."

Bellamy looked at Jackson's hand, which was close enough he could feel Jackson's heat without actually making contact, and told himself it would be inappropriate to tell a man in Jackson's mental state that he was welcome to touch Bellamy as much as he wanted.

He dragged his gaze back up to meet Jackson's again. "People need connection. Real, physical connection, not just the illusion of it." After a moment, he wet his lips and said, "Jackson, you're not alone. You don't have to be."

Jackson drew a deep breath, then looked down at his hand. After a moment, he lowered it to cover Bellamy's. "I should be," he said, curling his fingers around Bellamy's hand.

"No, you shouldn't," Bellamy said. "When they floated my mom and took my sister from me, I isolated myself. I pushed away the friends I had made in the guard. I drank to try to drown out all the self-blame and anger and..." He shook his head. "That only made it worse. When you isolate yourself, there's nothing to hear except your own self-loathing."

_Trust me_ , he wanted to say. _I know. When I isolate myself from my friends, that's when I make the worst decisions._

Jackson sighed. "I can't-- I stood there while people were being crucified, and did nothing. I was _happy_. I devoted my life to healing people's bodies, and then I decided they weren't important anymore." His pinky slid out along Bellamy's wrist.

Bellamy drew in a slow breath. "Because you were deceived into believing the City of Light was the right answer. Did you make a mistake? Yes. Does it make you evil? No. You...you made the best decision you could based on the information you had at the time."

The words tasted bitter as he said them. Kane had said those words to him after Gina died in Mount Weather. Bellamy hadn't believed them then. He wanted to believe them now. He wasn't sure he did.

Jackson huffed. He didn't believe it either. "I generally consider myself a smart man," he said. "But I took an untested magic pill so I didn't have to feel pain. I may not be evil, but I hurt a lot of people because I was… selfish? I don't know." His pinky stroked along Bellamy's skin again, then he sucked in a small breath and drew his hand away, pressing his fingertips to his lips.

"I think that's called being human," Bellamy said, and he wondered if he sounded as breathless as he suddenly felt. Jackson had nice lips. Bellamy told himself it would definitely be a bad idea to lean across the table and kiss them. He cleared his throat. "Anyway, I thought you guys tested the chip."

"Not until after I'd taken it," Jackson said. After a moment, he pulled back from Bellamy. "I should go sleep this off," he said, curling his fingers around his cup.

"Possibly," Bellamy said. He huffed. "I should probably find out where I'm even supposed to sleep. Abby told me to get lost, and said someone was assigning quarters."

As he said the words, he realized they sounded like an offer, which wasn't what he'd intended. He shifted in his seat a little, glancing back down at his glass. He really was overtired if he was accidentally flirting with a guy who was dealing with trauma. "Thanks for talking to me," he said after a second, looking at Jackson.

"Yeah," Jackson said quietly. "I thought you had a medical question."

Bellamy gave him a crooked smile. "Nope. I've had worse than this." He gestured at the cuts on his face. "Jackson, I'm glad you made it out."

Jackson's lips twitched, like he wanted to smile back but couldn't manage it. "That makes one," he said, and stood. He still looked unsteady, and braced himself on the table for a moment.

"Need someone to lean on?" Bellamy offered, his smile strengthening. He wasn't really that interested in his roasted vegetables, anyway.

Jackson closed his eyes, humming a noise Bellamy couldn't quite read. "Maybe," he admitted.

Bellamy tossed back the rest of the gin, shuddered a little at the taste, and stood up. Drinking his problems away had never worked, but he didn't have any objection to the warmth the drink sent through him. "Point me in the right direction," he said, and moved around the table to stand next to Jackson.

Jackson inclined his head in the direction they needed to go, then straightened. He looked at Bellamy's shoulders and chest, lifting the hand closest to Bellamy. It was as if he was unsure how he should use Bellamy, or how he should touch him.

Bellamy huffed a laugh and wrapped an arm around Jackson's waist. "Come on, just lean on me," he said, his voice a little warmer than it probably should be. He hadn't realized, thanks to the baggy jackets the doctor usually wore, how trim that waist was. "It's fine."

Jackson sucked in a breath and nodded, then slid his arm around Bellamy's shoulders. As they walked through Polis to Jackson's quarters, Bellamy noticed that Jackson mostly kept his head down, avoiding people's eyes as his fingers gripped Bellamy's shoulder.

Bellamy also couldn't help noticing the play of Jackson's muscles against his arm. He kept telling himself to ignore it, but as much as he tried, he was definitely aware. To distract himself, he said, "How are they assigning rooms, do you know?"

"I don't know," Jackson said. Once they got indoors, Jackson's fingers loosened on Bellamy's shoulder. They stroked once, then Jackson squeezed lightly. "Probably just assigning at random based on bed sizes and such."

The last statement made Bellamy let out a choked laugh. Under any other circumstance, he would know he was being propositioned, but he had to think Jackson just wasn't considering the subtext of his words. "Well, I don't expect it'll be permanent, anyway. Even if Clarke comes to some agreement with the Grounders, not everyone can stay here."

He needed to not think about bed sizes.

Jackson made a sound of agreement, then gestured at a door. "That's me," he said, and they made their way over to it. Jackson stepped out of Bellamy's hold, but gripped his shoulder as he got the door open, then he sucked in a deep breath and looked up at Bellamy. "Thanks."

"Glad to help," Bellamy said quietly. He suppressed a sudden urge to brush his fingers against Jackson's cheek. "It does get easier to breathe after a while. I promise."

Jackson looked down at the floor, letting go of Bellamy. He pressed his knuckles against the bridge of his nose, massaging gently for a moment before dropping his hand back down and looking back up at Bellamy. "Do you… want to come in?" he finally said, in a tone that was more than a little suggestive.

Bellamy's resolve wavered. God. He _was_ being propositioned. "You've had a lot to drink," he pointed out, but his breathing quickened.

"God, okay, so you do like guys," Jackson said, sounding like he'd been prepared for Bellamy to respond badly and was relieved. He cleared his throat. "I probably could have gotten here on my own," he admitted. "You just… you're the first person I've touched in weeks, and… I need…"

"To feel something real?" Bellamy suggested. He felt himself swaying a little closer to Jackson. "To reclaim yourself?" He licked his lips. "To stop thinking?"

"All of the above?" Jackson said breathlessly, taking a step back from Bellamy into the doorway.

Bellamy let out a shaky breath and followed, his gaze on Jackson's dark eyes. "Not just me, then," he murmured.

Jackson shook his head, stepping to the side as Bellamy followed him so he could close the door. Once it was closed, Jackson stepped in close enough that Bellamy could feel his warmth without touching. Jackson's unsteady breathing ghosted against Bellamy's face.

He lifted his hands to Bellamy's chest without touching him, his fingers working in the air for a moment. Bellamy's heart was racing when Jackson finally pressed his hands to Bellamy's chest and ducked his head to brush his lips to Bellamy's.

Bellamy's breathing hitched as he gave in to his earlier desire and lifted his hand to brush his fingers against Jackson's cheek. He kissed Jackson back, trying to rein in his hunger, worried about how tentative Jackson seemed despite being the one to issue the invitation.

Jackson made a sound that was almost a whimper, sliding his hands up over Bellamy's shoulders to pull him closer. "Thank you," he murmured. When he kissed Bellamy again, there was definitely more heat.

Bellamy hummed into the kiss, pleased at the change. He wrapped his free arm around Jackson's waist. It had been too long since he'd had this, the hard planes of a man so different from the women he'd been with. His body was already urging him on, wanting more. "What do you want most?" he whispered against Jackson's lips.

"I want you to fuck me," Jackson breathed. He nipped at Bellamy's lower lip. "If that's okay with you."

"God," Bellamy managed. He tightened his arm around Jackson's waist, pulling their hips together. "More than okay."

"Good," Jackson said, pushing Bellamy's guard jacket over his shoulders.

Bellamy made an impatient noise and let go of Jackson long enough to help him with the jacket, then tugged at Jackson's. Jackson let his jacket fall, then cupped Bellamy's face in his hands for another hungry kiss.

His fingers slid into Bellamy's messy hair, and down the collar of his shirt to press into the top of his back. He moaned softly against Bellamy's mouth, obviously equally as aroused as Bellamy. "More skin," he panted, leaning back to tug off Bellamy's shirt.

Bellamy let him, then dropped his hands to slip under Jackson's shirt tail. "You too," he said, and slid his palms up Jackson's chest, pushing the shirt up. As soon as he tossed Jackson's shirt aside, Bellamy pressed against him again, kissing him hungrily.

Jackson's hands roamed Bellamy's skin, brushing over his back and shoulders, running down his arms. "Oh God," he breathed, kissing along Bellamy's jaw as he started to pull Bellamy toward the bed.

Bellamy couldn't help but appreciate Jackson's enthusiasm. He stroked a hand against Jackson's side as he moved with him. He had the sudden, absurd thought that if Abby had known Bellamy would end up in bed with her favorite coworker, she might not have let him go. "I honestly didn't offer to help just to seduce you," he managed, but he was fumbling with Jackson's belt as he spoke.

Jackson huffed. "Pretty sure I seduced you," he breathed, his fingers working open Bellamy's pants.

"Oh, okay," Bellamy said, grinning a little. He kissed Jackson hard, then pulled back. "Damn boots," he muttered.

Jackson smiled faintly and sat on the edge of the bed to start working his own boots open. "Beggars can't be choosers," he said, getting one boot off and stuffing his sock in it.

It felt like a minor victory that he'd gotten a smile, even a faint one, from Jackson. Bellamy tugged at his own boot laces and savored that feeling. When he finally got his boots off, he turned to look at Jackson, and for the first time he really took the time to _look_ at Jackson.

"Damn," he blurted, raking his gaze across Jackson's well-muscled torso. "You really shouldn't hide that," he said, leaning down to stroke his hands down Jackson's arms. "Or these."

Why had Jackson always been so unremarkable in Arkadia? Was it only the baggy doctor's coat he wore, or was he just used to fading into the background, all work and no play? Bellamy found himself wishing he had noticed Jackson sooner.

He kissed Jackson more slowly but with more urgency.

Jackson hummed into the kiss, sliding his fingers into Bellamy's hair again now that both boots were off. "Not really any point in showing them off," he murmured. His fingers started work on Bellamy's pants again. 

"I don't know, I might not be as stubborn about avoiding medical," Bellamy teased. He kissed Jackson again, suddenly remembering why Jackson wasn't in medical, why they were doing this at all. He nipped gently at Jackson's lower lip, hoping to distract him enough that _Jackson_ wouldn't think about all that.

"If I worked shirtless?" Jackson said, and then stilled. He expelled a breath a moment later, then kissed Bellamy hard. "Out of these," he ordered, pushing at Bellamy's pants and boxers.

Bellamy swore mentally; obviously it hadn't quite worked. But he shoved the rest of his clothes off and reached for Jackson. "You too," he said.

"Mm," Jackson hummed, kissing Bellamy as he squirmed out of his clothes. Once they were both naked, Jackson tugged Bellamy down to the bed with him, rolling Bellamy on top. His hands slid to grip Bellamy's ass, tugging Bell against him and groaning as their erections pressed together. "Fuck."

Bellamy gasped, trying to keep his hips from jerking. He kissed Jackson's jaw and let his teeth scrape gently. "Need this," he managed, then corrected himself. "Need you."

Jackson huffed a laugh that didn't sound happy. "Barely know me," he murmured, tilting his chin for Bellamy to continue. "Teeth're good."

"Need you for this," Bellamy said, nipping a little harder and then covering the spot with his mouth to soothe it. It was true they barely knew each other, but no one else needed Bell, and he was good with this. He rolled his hips against Jackson's and groaned. More than good with this.

"God, yes," Jackson panted. His hands were roaming Bellamy's skin again. "Feel amazing," he murmured. "Strong... _Real_."

Bellamy hummed in agreement and nipped his way down Jackson's neck. "S'real," he mumbled. "Need me to touch every inch of you to prove it?"

Jackson's breath hitched at those words, then he let out a couple of short breaths that might have been an attempt at a laugh. "I wouldn't stop you," he whispered.

Bellamy wasn't sure either of them would be able to hold out long enough for that, but he was willing to try. He chuckled and smoothed a palm down Jackson's arm, following it with his lips and thrilling a little at the muscles there. He shifted to press kisses across Jackson's chest, his fingertips stroking lower to rest at his lean belly. "Jackson," he murmured. _You are real._

Bellamy scraped his nails lightly down Jackson's other arm, squeezing his fingertips when he reached them, then moved lower, leaving wet kisses on Jackson's leg. Jackson's breathing had gone ragged, and he gasped when Bellamy sank his teeth into that firm thigh muscle. "Bellamy," he panted, sounding breathless.

Bellamy smiled, shifting back up to drag his tongue up the underside of Jackson's cock. "Ah, God!" Jackson gasped, his fingers grabbing a fistful of Bellamy's hair. Bellamy circled his fingers around the base of Jackson's cock and took it in his mouth.

Jackson made a strangled noise as Bellamy started sucking. He left one hand on the back of Bellamy's head while the other tried to stroke Bellamy's shoulders, but he couldn't seem to stop making little noises of pleasure with each bob of Bellamy's head.

Finally, after a few minutes, he gasped. "Oh, God, stop. Fuck me," he managed, tugging lightly at Bellamy's hair.

Bellamy froze at the word 'stop,' but Jackson's next words reassured him. He pulled slowly off and kissed Jackson's hip. "G'me a minute," he said, and spit into his palm. Spit wasn't a good substitute for lube, but it was better than nothing.

Jackson was watching Bellamy, his gaze full of desire, but maybe also a touch of hesitance suddenly. "S'been a while," he whispered.

"I'll be careful," Bellamy promised, and dropped another kiss on Jackson's hip. He pulled back and replaced his lips with a hand. "Roll over. Just for a minute."

Jackson licked his lips, then shifted around to get on his hands and knees in front of Bellamy. "However you want me," he murmured, letting his head hang.

"Just for a minute," Bellamy repeated, smiling faintly. "Just to get ready." He cupped Jackson's ass with his palms and leaned in to lick his entrance. It would be faster this way, anyway, and hopefully would relax Jackson a little.

Jackson obviously hadn't expected that, because he moaned and dropped to his elbows, muffling his noises into his pillow. That made Bellamy's smile strengthen, so he swirled his tongue against Jackson's tight pucker, drawing another muffled moan from Jackson.

He continued licking and kissing and gently prodding with his tongue until Jackson finally lifted his head. " _Please_ , Bellamy."

Bellamy pulled back and spit into his palm again to slick himself. "How do you want to be?" he asked, stroking a hand down Jackson's back.

"This is good," Jackson panted.

Bellamy shifted up closer, nestling his cock against Jackson's entrance. "Sure you're ready?" he asked, sliding a hand between them and pressing his thumb there gently. "My finger or my cock?"

"Fuck me," Jackson gasped.

Bellamy huffed and shifted to let the head of his cock nudge Jackson's entrance. "Didn't want to give you more pain than you wanted," he murmured, hoping he was reading this right. He pressed in slowly, his own breathing going ragged as he tried to be careful. "God, you feel good," he managed, going still to wait for Jackson's reaction.

Jackson made another strangled noise, the lines of his back tightening. Bellamy could see his fists balled up around his sheets. He drew several shaky breaths, then said, "Keep going."

"Okay." Bellamy pressed in further, gasping and watching Jackson. "So tight," he hissed. He could feel Jackson's muscles tense as Bellamy rested a hand on his hip, but Jackson didn't stop him again until he was all the way inside.

Jackson's hand reached back to curl around Bellamy's hip. "Stay there… just a minute," he panted. Bellamy stopped moving inside Jackson, but as Jackson struggled to calm his breathing, Bellamy stroked his hands over Jackson's back.

Eventually, Jackson's breathing slowed down, and Bellamy could feel his body relaxing. Jackson let go of Bellamy's hip. "M'okay. More," he murmured.

"You're gorgeous," Bellamy whispered, and started by just rocking his hips a little. "Still okay?" he asked, not wanting to go too fast.

"Yeah," Jackson choked out. He'd tensed slightly, when Bellamy had started moving again, but this time he was loosening up again much more easily. "Not gorgeous," he panted. 

He was, really. Especially like this. But Bellamy wasn't going to argue with him. He wasn't trying to compliment Jackson--he was trying to make him feel something real. "Feel so good," he said, moving just a little more. 

"Ungh," Jackson grunted. "So d'you." He shifted, reaching a hand down to stroke himself. "M'ready. Harder."

"Good," Bellamy said, and started moving, first with slow, regular thrusts, but building as he felt Jackson's body responding. He reached around and brushed Jackson's hand away to stroke him. "Still okay?" he panted, trying to keep control of himself.

"Yes," Jackson moaned, getting his hand back under himself. He met Bellamy's next thrust by shoving himself back against it. "F-- yes."

Bellamy couldn't swallow the groan that drew out of him. Instead of trying to answer with words, he thrust harder, stroking Jackson a little faster. For the first time in ages, he was focused just on this moment, on getting pleasure and returning it to another person, and it felt so good his chest ached.

He was driving little wordless sounds of pleasure out of Jackson now with each thrust, and then Jackson shifted and reached his hand back. Bellamy almost stopped, but as Jackson's hand reached Bellamy's hip, he moaned, "Harder." His hand ghosted over Bellamy's hip, then up his side as far as Jackson could reach.

Bellamy grunted in acknowledgment and did as Jackson asked, increasing the speed of his thrusts along with the force. The sounds Jackson made curled encouragement into Bellamy's ears, heightening his desire. God, this was exactly what Bellamy needed. He felt his control dissolving, his thrusts growing more irregular.

Jackson whimpered, drawing his hand away from Bellamy's waist. He curled his fingers around Bellamy's wrist and pulled his hand away from Jackson's cock. "S'good," he moaned. "Jus' don't want to come… in my sheets."

"Fuck," Bellamy bit out, but he managed to stutter his hips to a halt. "Y'right." He was still for a moment, panting. "Turn over?"

"Whatever you want," Jackson gasped, but he was already shifting away.

Bellamy managed a smile. "Want you to turn over," he said, trying to catch his breath.

Jackson shifted around until he was sitting facing Bellamy, legs straddling him. He hooked a hand around the back of Bellamy's neck and tugged him forward for a slow, but hungry kiss, pulling Bellamy back down to the bed with him.

Bellamy moaned into the kiss, a wave of desire sweeping through him. When the kiss ended, he managed, "Better like this." He had the vague thought that he might not have made sense, but then he was pressing against Jackson again, whimpering a little as he tried to be gentle entering him again.

Jackson's breath hitched as Bellamy entered him, his half-lidded gaze on Bellamy's face. After a moment of Bellamy being gentle, though he huffed and draped his leg over Bellamy's hip, pulling Bellamy all the way in. "Don't slow down," he whispered. "Want all of you."

"God," Bellamy groaned, his hips jerking automatically. He held Jackson's gaze, watching as sensation flooded him, flooded them both. "This is real," he whispered, and kissed Jackson, hard and hungry, before turning his attention to thrusting.

Jackson moaned, sliding his fingers into Bellamy's hair and lifting his head to nibble along his jaw. It wasn't long before Bellamy was driving breathy, wanton sounds out of Jackson again.

He dropped his head back, pressing it into the pillow with a moan and closing his eyes. Bellamy ducked his head to lick Jackson's neck, curling his hand around Jackson's cock again.

"Jackson," he panted. He could feel the wave of pleasure building in him, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he came. "So good." He nipped gently at Jackson's jaw. "Getting close."

"God, yes," Jackson panted. He tugged Bellamy's hair to pull him up for a kiss. "Don't hold back," he whispered, watching Bellamy's face. 

Bellamy groaned and let go, thrusting hard and fast, straining to meet the pleasure that was building, hearing himself gasping Jackson's name, and then it swamped him and he let out a strangled noise as he came.

Jackson hummed a pleased noise, pulling Bellamy in for another slow kiss as Bellamy slowly rocked his hips until his release was complete. "Sexy," Jackson breathed, kissing him again.

"Nn," Bellamy managed, starting to stroke Jackson again. He shifted, slipping out of Jackson. He gave him a slow, sated smile, then dropped his head to take Jackson in his mouth.

"Guh," Jackson managed, tucking an arm behind his head so that he could look down and watch Bellamy. "So good," he panted. His breath was hitching, eyelids drooping. "Bellamy."

Bell slanted a look up at him and bobbed his head, sucking harder. He could feel the tension in Jackson's body, and he hummed low in his throat.

Jackson moaned, his fingers tightening in Bellamy's hair. "God, I'm--" he gasped, and before he could finish the sentence, his release was flooding Bellamy's mouth.

It wasn't much warning, but it was enough. Bellamy pulled back a little, swallowing instinctively. When he was sure Jackson was done, he pulled back slowly, lifting a warm gaze to his face. "Speaking of sexy," he said, leaning up to kiss Jackson.

Jackson was breathless. After a moment, though, he shifted to his side, making room for Bellamy to settle on the bed. "God," Jackson breathed. "Th'k you."

Bellamy lowered himself to the bed, panting, and gave Jackson a lazy smile. "My pleasure," he said. He liked seeing the relaxed lines of Jackson's body and knowing it was because of him. He wondered idly if Jackson would be open to doing this again. It didn't have to be anything, but Bellamy felt more relaxed than he had in weeks. He reached out and smoothed a hand down Jackson's arm, just to give him more physical contact.

Jackson actually smiled back for a moment, then let his eyes close. "Mmm," Jackson hummed, reaching out to press the back of his hand to Bellamy's chest.

Good. This had been what Jackson needed. Bellamy let his gaze trail over Jackson's face, taking in the smooth forehead and the tiny curve of his lips, and realized he couldn't remember ever seeing the doctor when he didn't look at least mildly worried about something. What would months of that do to someone, combined with the long hours the medical staff worked? Was that why Jackson had taken the chip?

He couldn't deny that he'd wondered about the chip himself. He wouldn't go so far as to say he'd ever been tempted, because he had convinced himself that Pike was right, the Grounders were the threat--and he had seen first-hand that people who took the chip didn't care about the Grounder threat in the least.

It occurred to him that, though he'd fucked up big time by joining Pike's faction, in a backwards way, it had saved him from ALIE. Bellamy closed his eyes for a moment against a sudden rush of emotion--guilt, grief, gratitude, more guilt.

When he opened his eyes again, he realized that at some point, Jackson had fallen asleep.

Bellamy wondered if he should get dressed and leave Jackson to rest, or if he was welcome to stay. After a while, he decided to stay. If Jackson woke up and asked him to leave, that would be fine, but Jackson had obviously needed human connection. He closed his eyes and drifted to sleep himself.

He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but he woke later to Jackson shifting. Bellamy blinked open his eyes to see Jackson frowning, twitching, obviously not awake.

"No," Jackson whimpered. "Abby."

Bellamy propped himself on one elbow, watching to see if Jackson's nightmare would pass, but after a few moments, he decided to wake him. It's what Bellamy would want, if their places were switched.

He closed a hand gently on Jackson's shoulder. "Jackson," he said, and then shook him gently. "Jackson."

Jackson gasped, opening his eyes, meeting Bellamy's gaze briefly before darting his eyes around the room as if to reassure himself he was safe. "God," he choked out, still trying to catch his breath. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Bellamy said, squeezing his shoulder and then stroking his hand slowly across skin that was slightly sticky with sweat. "I have 'em, too." He lowered himself back to the bed, but kept sliding his palm over Jackson's skin. It felt nice, and maybe it would help him feel more grounded.

Jackson closed his eyes, and tried to breath normally again. He reached out a hand and pressed it against Bellamy's stomach. "I've had them… off and on for a year, maybe a year and a half. Since I was brought into Project Exodus. They're just a lot worse now."

Bellamy made a thoughtful noise. "I had a few after they floated my mom and put O in lockup, but mine didn't really start until we'd been on the Ground for a day or two." He cleared his throat and shifted a little closer so he could stroke his hand down Jackson's back. "They got really bad after Mount Weather. The first time in Mount Weather."

He let his eyelids fall mostly closed, but he was still trying to gauge Jackson's emotional state, so he kept watching him.

Jackson nodded slowly, sliding the hand on Bellamy's stomach over his waist. "Mmph, mine started with suffocating on the Ark, then a hundred melting teenagers… the ground didn't make them better, but they got really bad after Mount Weather. The second time. But… they're somehow even worse now."

"Mount Weather was awful," Bellamy agreed. He shifted closer again. He was tempted to just wrap his arms around Jackson, but he wasn't sure if that would feel comforting or suffocating. "But in the end, it was Emerson, wanting his revenge." He huffed an unhappy sigh. "Revenge for the decision Clarke and I made."

Jackson huffed too. "I convinced Abby to take Nyko there for treatment. Our people wouldn't have moved in otherwise." His frown deepened, his expression was one of someone trying to fight his emotions.

"Pike would have pushed for it without your suggestion," Bellamy said. He hadn't realized Jackson was part of that decision, but he couldn't blame him. Ultimately, Gina had died because Bellamy and Clarke irradiated Emerson's family. They'd done what they thought was best for their people, and it had backfired. Again.

_Why do people keep letting us make decisions? We fuck them all up,_ Bellamy thought, and sighed. He slid his hand around to rest it on Jackson's chest, keeping them in contact.

"Beside the point," Jackson murmured. His expression smoothed a little for a moment, but then he frowned again, opening his eyes to look at Bellamy. "Octavia," he said softly. "Did she stay?"

Bellamy's throat tightened and he shook his head. After a moment he swallowed. "I'm dead to her," he whispered. "That's what she told me." Then his throat tightened too much for him to keep speaking.

It was the first time he'd said those words aloud. The first time he'd acknowledged that there might not be any going back from this. He'd tried so hard to get through to her... and instead she'd killed Pike and walked away.

Jackson sucked in a slow breath, his gaze going compassionate. "I'm sorry," he whispered, lifting his hand from Bellamy's waist to stroke his cheek.

Bellamy closed his eyes, taking comfort from that touch, even if he wasn't sure he deserved it. After a moment he exhaled. "My whole life..." he murmured, not opening his eyes. "All I've done...everything...was for her. Keeping her safe." When he opened his eyes again, he forced himself to meet Jackson's gaze, despite the wetness trickling from the corner of his eye. "And instead I destroyed her happiness. I deserve her hatred."

"That can't be true," Jackson said softly, brushing away Bellamy's tears with his knuckles.

"Lincoln died because of what I did." Bellamy's voice cracked. "I helped put Pike in power."

"Pike was elected in a landslide," Jackson said. "The _majority_ of our people wanted him to lead."

"They might not have if I hadn't thrown my support behind him," Bellamy whispered. It probably sounded egotistical, but they'd seen him switch his support from Kane to Pike, and he was the guy who'd gotten the kids out of Mount Weather. Disregarding the truth of what happened, people had seen Bellamy as a hero, and he'd removed his support from Kane at a critical moment because he was hurting over Gina's death and afraid the Grounders would betray them again. "Kane won't even look at me."

He sighed. He'd approached Jackson to help _him_ , not to get help.

"Maybe not, but they made their own choices," Jackson murmured, stroking Bellamy's cheek again.

"That doesn't bring back the three hundred people I helped kill," Bellamy said. He gave in and scooted over to wrap an arm around Jackson, pressing against him. "I used to think I was doing what was best for our people," he whispered. "But I was just letting my guilt and grief control me."

Jackson scooted closer too, lifting his head to press his cheek to Bellamy's. His arm went around Bellamy's shoulders, hand lifted to stroke Bellamy's hair. "I know the feeling," he murmured. 

Bellamy felt himself relaxing a little in Jackson's embrace. It was simple human comfort, and he knew it was only because they both needed it, not because they needed each other, specifically. But it was more than he'd had since Gina died. He sighed, closing his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

Jackson shook his head slightly. "Thank _you_."

 

***

 

Jackson's bed was empty when he woke up the following morning. He hadn't really intended to invite Bellamy to his bed the day before, but it had felt so good just to touch someone else… and later in bed, to briefly feel pain as a source of pleasure.

It hadn't fixed him, or convinced him that his actions over the last couple of weeks were any less reprehensible, but it had been a nice reminder of his _humanity_ , which had clearly been lacking in the City of Light.

But alone in his bed, Jackson felt lost again. How could he ever forgive himself for the things he'd done? How could he ever forget Abby pointing her gun at his head, finger on the trigger.

Jackson sobbed, and then lost himself to his grief for a while before forcing himself to get up and dress. He didn't have anything to do with himself, though, so he stumbled into the mess and drank until he couldn't hurt anymore.

He did the same thing the next day, and the one after that. Trikru didn't know him at all, and they probably thought he was just a fucking useless alcoholic. No one bothered to approach him, and Jackson wondered if Bellamy was avoiding him now after their intimacy, or if he was just busy.

Not that it mattered. Bellamy was nice to look at and good in bed, and Jackson wouldn't mind a repeat of their night together, but it didn't have to be a thing.

The fourth day after sleeping with Bellamy, Jackson dragged himself out of bed and headed for medical. He couldn't keep living like this. He had to work. Otherwise he might as well slit _his own_ wrists and be one less drain on resources.

His heart was racing when he stepped inside. Abby was with Kane--Jackson looked at their faces just long enough to confirm who they were, then looked back at the floor--but there didn't seem to be any patients around.

"Abby, I-- I _have_ to work," he said, hoping he didn't sound like he was begging even as his voice cracked.

He heard Abby suck in a shaky breath, and then she took a hesitant step towards him. He couldn't make himself meet her gaze, though, so he was shocked when she threw her arms around him. "Jackson," she whispered.

Jackson froze, arms half-lifted to embrace her back, but… this didn't feel real. Why was she hugging him? "Abby," he breathed, his eyes filling with tears. He lifted his gaze to Kane over Abby's shoulder, his confusion clear on his face.

Kane looked pleased, though, if concerned. He nodded at Jackson and turned to read something on a table, giving them some privacy.

"I'm so sorry," Abby said, not letting go of him. "Thank you for coming back."

Jackson frowned, still not understanding, but he finally wrapped his arms around her. "Of course I came back," he said. His hand automatically moved to pet her hair. "Abby, what are _you_ sorry for? This is all my fault." He closed his eyes, ignoring the tears running down his face and pressed his cheek to the side of her head.

"I almost shot you," she said. "If Clarke hadn't found the kill switch when she did--" She broke off and tightened her arms around him.

"I know," he whispered. "But it would have been the right call," he added. It had stung, definitely, when Abby had walked past him to comfort Kane after the City of Light fell. Jackson understood Abby was _in love_ with Kane, but she could have said something to him, or touched his shoulder as she walked past him. But maybe she had been in shock over what she'd almost done and couldn't face him. 

"I-- I _betrayed_ you. I manipulated you. That's why-- that's why Arkadia fell. How can you hug me?" he said, barely managing to get words out through tears. He couldn't make his hands stop trembling against her back.

"Oh, Jackson," she said, her voice husky. "We all had a part in Arkadia's fall. Don't take that on yourself. You didn't _betray_ me." She finally pulled back, but just enough so she could cup his face in both her hands and stare up at him. "We have _all_ done things. We have _all_ made terrible mistakes. How you managed to put it off this long is the real question."

There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him, but her voice was sure.

Jackson felt like he couldn't catch his breath. "I always listened to you," he breathed. "That's how." He felt his face crumple, and he leaned in until she let him bury his face against her shoulder, wrapping her arms around him again. "ALIE needed you for Arkadia to fall. I helped that happen." He gasped for another breath. "I thought I could be a better doctor," he managed. "But I sedated you-- I didn't even _catch you_ when you fell."

"Shh, no," she whispered, stroking his hair. "No. It's over. That wasn't you--not who you really are. _This_ , this good-hearted, brilliant young man who cares about people, _this_ is who you really are."

"H--how do I know that anymore?" Jackson said. God, he felt awful. And stupid. But Abby was _holding_ him after everything he'd done.

"Because I know you, Jackson," she said. "I have known you for years. And because of your remorse. And because you still desire to help people."

Jackson drew a slow breath, feeling less unsteady than he had a moment ago. "Abby, I am _so_ sorry," he whispered.

"I forgive you," she said, pulling back. "And I'm sorry, too."

Jackson drew another slow breath, wiping the wetness from his face. "You didn't do anything wrong," he said, holding her gaze in hopes she would believe him. The memory of her pointing a gun at his head still featured heavily in his nightmares, but intellectually, he knew she would have been making the right call if she had had to pull that trigger. "Not to me."

Her gaze cleared a little, though there was still lingering sorrow. After a few moments, she nodded slowly. "I'm glad to have you back," she said softly.

From the other side of the room, Kane cleared his throat. "We both are," he said. He was leaning against the table, head down. "We're going to need everyone who will work with us."

Abby tensed a little, then looked at Jackson. "There are some wounds that have gone septic, because people were ignoring them," she said. "I could use your help on that until the supply run gets back from Arkadia."

Kane made an uncomfortable noise, and Abby said, "You'll have to actually face him at some point, Marcus," her voice sharpening. "They should be back tonight sometime, if all goes well, and we'll have more medical resources then."

Jackson had looked to Kane, wondering if Abby was referring to Bellamy--it would explain him not having seen Bellamy for days--and he found his gaze lingering on Kane's heavily bandaged hands long enough to make his stomach turn.

He jerked his gaze back to Abby and nodded. "Whatever you need me to do," he said.

Jackson found himself treating almost as many Grounders as Sky People, though with the Grounders, the infection was rarely as far gone. He found himself wondering what sort of immunities the Grounders had that people on the Ark hadn't had a chance to develop. At some point, in the blur of treating wound after wound and speculating on immunities, he realized that he felt more like himself than he had in a long time.

Not happy. But at least himself.

He'd been in the makeshift medical ward for hours when he heard a clamor of voices and the footsteps of several people approaching. He finished with the patient he was currently working on and looked up in time to see several people in the black guard uniform enter the ward, carrying crates.

Bellamy was in front, blood smeared across one cheek. Jackson had an unpleasant jolt at the sight of the blood, but Abby's wordless exclamation kept him from asking.

"S'nothing," Bellamy said. "A little scuffle, but no casualties on either side. Just some bad feelings." He shrugged. "We have the supplies you wanted." His gaze flickered over to Jackson, and a faint smile tugged at his lips for a moment before he jerked his gaze back to Abby.

Abby watched him for a moment, then said, "Jackson, check his face." Then she looked past him. "Miller, Bryan, and Harper, get the rest of that stuff in here. Were there any wounded at Arkadia?"

"Monty was stabbed. Jasper was shot," Harper said, then she rolled her eyes and added, "By each other."

Jackson frowned deeply and looked at Bellamy. "I think a stabbing and a gunshot wound take priority over a punched face." He gave Bellamy a tiny, unhappy smile.

"Which is exactly what I was going to say," Bellamy said. "They're both stable, but there wasn't much in the way of antibiotics." He snorted and skated a glance at Jackson. "Unless you count the small amount of moonshine they poured over their wounds instead of into their stomachs."

He set the crate he was carrying on an empty table. "We loaded the rover around them, since Monty's most comfortable flat on his back. One more trip with crates and you can get to your patients."

He turned and headed back for the door.

Miller, Bryan, and Harper put down their loads, and Jackson and Abby followed them out. Raven was carrying a crate towards medical as they left, and Jackson's heart fluttered as he averted his gaze.

Abby may have forgiven him, but Abby had been his friend for years. Could Raven ever forgive him? 

They watched as Bellamy and the others unloaded more crates, and finally, Monty and Jasper were within view. They actually didn't look like they were in bad shape, all things considered. Jackson didn't know either of them very well, but he heard camp gossip from patients all the time. It was probably a good sign that Jasper was smiling faintly at his friend, in spite of having stabbed him, apparently.

They got the boys to medical, where Jackson spent the next hour standing over Monty, while Harper hovered near the door watching. By the time Monty was stitched up and had instructions for healing, it was late. Monty draped his arm over Harper's shoulders as he gingerly left medical. 

Jackson glanced over at Abby, who had already finished with Jasper and was hunched over a desk. He thought back to what Abby had said earlier in the day. _I'm glad to have you back._

"I didn't know you were waiting on me, Abby," he said.

She drew in a slow breath and straightened, as if her thoughts had been far away. When she looked at him, though, she smiled. "Thank you for all your help today," she said. "Come sit with me for a minute."

Jackson walked over and collapsed in a chair near hers, dragging his hands over his face. He sort of wanted to grab a medical kit and find Bellamy, using the cuts on Bellamy's face as an excuse to see him. But repairing this relationship that had been his anchor for years was more important. _Abby_ was more important.

Besides, he didn't even know where Bellamy's room was.

"I would have come back sooner," he said softly. "I thought you didn't want me around."

"I almost killed you," she said. "I was having a hard time looking you in the eye." She rubbed a hand over her face. "And then, once missing you was stronger than the guilt, I was waist-deep in patients. I should have sent someone looking for you." She lifted her head and smiled at him, and if it looked a little sad, she didn't seem to have trouble meeting his eyes.

Jackson held her gaze for a moment, then looked away, ashamed of what he was about to tell her. "I wouldn't have been any use. I spent the better part of the week drunk. Pretty sure most of Trikru thinks I'm a--" He sucked in a breath, shaking his head.

Abby sighed and her hand curled over his. "That doesn't work in the long run," she said. "No more than the chip did. It just gives you an illusion. I'm glad you came back." Her hand tightened on his. "And...you'll keep coming back?"

"Of course," he said, failing to mention the conclusion he'd come to before: that it was either working or dying. 

He drew a deep breath, unsure if he should say what he was thinking next. After a moment, he decided she'd forgiven him for worse. "Abby," he said, turning his hand to squeeze hers. "It was _beautiful_ , wasn't it?" 

By no means would Jackson want the City of Light back, but there was a tiny part of him that wished he could have that feeling back. Everything on Earth hurt. The Ark hadn't been a whole lot better, either.

"It was beautiful," Abby said after a moment. "It just wasn't real. I think I'd rather have something messy and complicated and painfully real than a life of illusory beauty." She drew in a breath. "But I still wish it had been real."

Jackson closed his eyes when they prickled. Abby understood. Of course she did. "Me too," he said, voice cracking.

Abby's other hand closed around his, and they were silent for a few moments, then she huffed a breath and let go of him. "You should get some rest," she said.

He huffed too. "You should too," he said. He opened his eyes to look at her, then leaned in for a hug. He squeezed her briefly, then let go and stood up. On his way out, he put his hand on a small medical kit near the door, and looked back at her. "Mind if I borrow this?"

He didn't know if he _would_ see Bellamy, but if he did, he would be prepared.

"Go ahead," she said, her lips curving a little. "I suspect he needs the company as much as you do."

Jackson opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. Of course Abby knew. Of course she'd noticed the way they'd smiled at each other earlier. 

Jackson let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes, then he met Abby's gaze affectionately. "Thanks," he said. She just nodded, and he left medical with the kit.

He wasn't sure where Bellamy's rooms were, but he could at least check a couple of public spaces. It was late, but there were still a few people out and about. He decided to start with the mess area, but it was empty of everyone save a couple of men who looked like they were baking for the next day, and a couple of people slumped over tables with bottles of drink.

As he tried to think of somewhere else he might find Bellamy, his feet took him towards the spot where the Rover had been parked. Maybe they were still unloading. It didn't seem likely, but it was worth looking.

As he approached the vehicle, he saw that the back was open. Jackson didn't see Miller or Bryan, though. When he was close enough to look inside, he saw that Bellamy was sitting in the back of the rover, propped against the side of the vehicle. He cradled a steaming thermos in his hands, and his head was tilted back, his eyes closed. He still hadn't washed away the blood.

Jackson sighed and climbed up inside the rover. It shifted a little under his weight, which made Bellamy jerk awake. "Just me," Jackson said quickly, holding up a steadying hand.

Bellamy exhaled and slumped back against the wall. "Hey," he said, his voice warm. "Sorry I vanished on you."

Jackson shook his head. "I honestly didn't notice. I was a little preoccupied with a stab wound," he said.

Bellamy huffed in amusement. "I meant the other day. Didn't want to wake you, but I didn't know I was being sent out of Polis that day."

"Oh." Jackson blinked at him for a moment, then went to sit on the bench next to him. "You don't owe me an apology," he said quietly. "You don't owe me anything, really."

Bellamy shrugged, letting his eyelids droop for a moment. "It's not about owing. Just..." He opened his eyes again, giving Jackson a faint smile. "I wouldn't want to burn any bridges." His gaze trailed down Jackson's body briefly.

Jackson sucked in a small breath, feeling a little thrill shoot through him. "You haven't," he murmured, and resisted the urge to kiss Bellamy, though he was aware of how his eyes flicked to Bellamy's lips for a second. He probably tasted like blood and sweat right now. "Let me look at your face," Jackson said after a moment.

"Oh, I was going to clean up," Bellamy said vaguely, then gestured at a damp rag sitting in a tin cup that had probably held water. He chuckled. "Must have fallen asleep before I got to it." He turned to face Jackson.

Jackson leaned over to pick up the rag. He resisted the urge to sniff it or ask Bellamy if it was clean. Surely Bellamy knew to clean a wound with fresh water. He started to slide the rag against the uninjured parts of Bellamy's face, his forehead and unmarred cheek, down his nose and chin, just cleaning him up. He started dabbing more gently when he got to the other cheek, the closer he got to a wound. "What happened out there?" he asked.

Bellamy hummed. "Ambush. Mixed group of formerly chipped Arkadians and Trikru who aren't handling the loss well." He had closed his eyes while Jackson worked, his voice low. "We subdued them without much trouble, but I got jumped by one of the Grounders. Big guy." He broke off to yawn. "Sorry. Harsh words exchanged after the initial ambush, but no one seriously hurt."

Jackson continued his work cleaning up Bellamy's cuts. "I… I hate what I did. I hate who the City of Light made me. Who it made of everyone I love," he said. "But I understand their anger. Unless you took that chip… there's no way to explain it." He was quiet for a moment, then he added, "I'm sorry you were hurt by us."

Bellamy opened his eyes, his forehead creasing. "No," he said, lifting a hand to press his fingertips lightly against Jackson's lips. "No. You don't need to apologize to me for anything." He held Jackson's gaze for a moment. "I don't blame anyone for taking the chip. Please don't apologize to me."

Jackson stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Thank you," he murmured, putting the rag back in the can and reaching for his medical kit.

"Good," Bellamy said, his eyelids drooping again. "It looks like you've been busy here," he murmured, watching Jackson work.

"A lot of infections. Bad ones," Jackson said. He pulled out fresh cloth from the kit and dabbed antiseptic on it. "I wish I had gone back to medical sooner. I thought Abby sidelined me because she hated me. But… she thought I hated her." He lifted the cloth to Bellamy's face. "This'll sting," he said, and pressed the cloth to the worst of the cuts.

He felt Bellamy twitch, but he didn't actually complain. "Too focused on your own guilt to notice anyone else's," he mumbled.

"To be fair, I've never felt this much guilt in my life," Jackson admitted, and then felt overexposed. He kept dabbing at Bellamy's cuts, hoping this wouldn't get awkward. 

"Me neither," Bellamy said. "For different reasons, but..." He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Just meant guilt makes you see everything differently." Bellamy's hand rested carefully on Jackson's leg. "It does get easier."

"I hope you're right," Jackson said softly. He inspected Bellamy's cuts for a moment. "These all look shallow." He hesitated, then added, "You look exhausted, though."

A fleeting smile slipped across Bellamy's face. "I am tired. Keep forgetting to ask if they've got quarters for me. I slept in the rover two nights ago, since we were only here for about six hours." His hand was still on Jackson's leg.

Jackson drew in a deep breath, tucking supplies back into his medical kit. "My bed isn't large, but it's soft and horizontal and we already know you fit," he said, "and I'm not propositioning you tonight." He put his kit to the side and covered Bellamy's hand with his own. He wouldn't turn down sex if Bellamy wanted or needed it, but Jackson didn't need it tonight like he had the other night. What he did need was comfort and not to be alone. It was when he was alone that his sorrow could overwhelm him.

Bellamy's smile returned. "Not that I would mind being propositioned, but I'm afraid I'd be disappointing tonight," he said, his gaze warm on Jackson's face. "Sharing your bed sounds nice."

Jackson felt his lips curl slightly, relieved. It could have been _any_ warm, male body in his bed a few nights ago, but Jackson was glad now that it had been Bellamy. In spite of some of the things he'd done, Bellamy was kind underneath it all, and unapologetic about his emotions. He was what Jackson needed for now. "Let's go," he said, standing and tugging Bellamy's hand lightly before letting go.

"Thanks," Bellamy said, following Jackson as he climbed out of the rover. He grabbed a pack out of the vehicle. Jackson felt Bellamy's fingers brush his as they walked. He wondered if it was just because Bellamy knew how much Jackson needed touch. When he glanced over at Bellamy's face, though, it didn't seem like he was doing it consciously.

Jackson let himself walk closer so that their shoulders brushed occasionally. They didn't say anything the whole walk to Jackson's rooms, but it felt comfortable. By the time Jackson was letting them inside, he felt more relaxed than he had been since the last time Bellamy had been in his bed.

He put his medical kit down and started peeling out if his coat. "Honestly, I would probably be disappointing tonight, too," he said as the exhaustion of the day hit him. "I hope you don't mind I sleep in my boxers," he added, darting Bellamy a somewhat teasing look before tugging off his shirt.

Bellamy laughed, sounding a little startled. "No complaints from me," he said, shrugging out of his jacket. He sat on the bed to work on his boots, his movements slow. When he was down to his own boxers, he gave Jackson a tired smile. "Thank you," he said again.

"You're welcome," Jackson said, finishing undressing himself as he admired Bellamy's chest and stomach. "Not going to claim my reason for inviting you to stay is entirely unselfish, though." He climbed into bed and urged Bellamy to join him.

"Mm," Bellamy said, getting in bed and rolling against Jackson for a slow kiss. "Nothing wrong with an arrangement that benefits both parties." He rested a hand on Jackson's chest.

Jackson slid an arm around Bellamy, shifting closer. "Agreed," he murmured, hooking a leg around Bellamy's as he kissed him again.

Bellamy made a happy-sounding noise, the hand on Jackson's chest sliding up over his shoulder to bury in his hair. He returned Jackson's kisses, his mouth slow and thorough against Jackson's.

Jackson slid his hand up Bellamy's back, tracing absent shapes against his skin with the tips of his fingers. After a few minutes of slow, almost tender kisses, Jackson couldn't swallow a small moan. His body hadn't started to respond to this yet, probably too tired, but this just felt _good_.

That made Bellamy sigh, but it sounded contented. "This is exactly what I needed," he whispered against Jackson's lips. His fingers were stroking through Jackson's hair as he kissed Jackson again.

That made Jackson smile against Bellamy's lips. "Me too," he whispered, and pressed another kiss to Bellamy's mouth.


End file.
